


Miraculous Medley

by BadLuckBug



Series: MariChat May [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Marichat May, Technically Adrien's reincarnated, badluckbug, miraculous medley, sweet baby kwami what am i doing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-10-28 15:53:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 12,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10834467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BadLuckBug/pseuds/BadLuckBug
Summary: This will be my leaf pile of Marichat fics, feel free to jump in.





	1. I just wanted to use up some puns

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1 - Milk

Hypothetically, the words came right out his mouth with little prompting. Realistically...

Marinette hugged the back of her desk chair. “So...”

“So...?” Chat quirked a brow.

It’s about spitting out the question to begin with. Something about the innocent gleam in his eye made her hesitant.

But when Adrien asked if she knew Chat Noir... and yeah he had been visiting for a few days now because she had this crazy notion to thank him for the latest save where Ladybug had been nowhere in sight... haha...

But this is ridiculous.

But Adrien wanted an answer! A stupid answer to a stupid question. Why on earth it had to be this one... she’s no clue.

Alya’d been no help, her encouragement of, “if that cat is your ticket to Adrien, I say milk him for all he’s worth.”

“D-do you-?” She pressed her lips together, glowing at the wall. “-like... fish?”

“Am I herring you right?” Suddenly invigorated, Chat leapt to his feet. “I mean reely, Princess, of all the fishy questions you could fink of for a man in a mask.”

Continuing her staredown of the wall, her glower worsened. She grabbed the plush at her desk, contemplating chucking it at him. This feels like a set up. Impossible as that is, it’s like he’d been waiting the night for this moment.

“To answer you, yes, and I prefer tuna.”

She faltered. “Seriously?” Well. Generic answer aside, at least that’s over now.

“I squid you not.“

The doll hit square between his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are times scenes end up on my mind and lost in a document of stories I need to write. So instead of creating chapter stories around one scene, I'll post them here. However, most will be made on the fly to fit the day as I don't have *that* many loose stories.  
> Other times, I will post an entire story separately, as a few of these chapter stories do pertain to the day.


	2. Under Her Wing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Purring

It spike up his leg -  demanding his entire body’s attention -  a bullet of pain, and Chat Noir knew his ankle was... He turned it experimentally, and felt dizzy from the fangs of agony burying itself into his leg. Rain pelted mockingly at his head.  _ Stay down _ , it commanded. Unable to resist, he complied. And sneezed.

“Who’s there?!” someone demanded.

He twisted carefully as to not agitate his injury.

“Ah, Princess!” Chat sprawled to appear as alluring as possible, mindful of the earlier concern, and propped his head up in his hand, grinning his pearly whites. “How’s your evening?”

“Chat Noir.” She flipped her hand, which had been perched oddly at her ear, and now cupped her cheek. “What are you-?” She lowered her hatch to hide away from the light  drizzle. “Come inside.”

“I’d love to!”

Neither moved.

“But it appears I’ve sprained my hindpaw... I’ve challenged my least favorite element, and it appears I’m a bit wet behind the ears.”

She crawled onto the rooftop, leaving her hatch open. “Are you okay?”

“Purrha— eep!” he yelped indignantly when she swept him into her arms. “M- Marinette!” She lifted him effortlessly. Holy cheese, he could feel her muscles, stiff and sure. Not a quiver of weakness.

What.

On.

Earth.

Moving with a grace he never would have pegged against her sweet sometimes babbling exterior, she dropped them into her room. Laying him gently onto her covers before she shut the door. He laid on his back, feeling small compared to her sudden authority.

Hands fisted under his chin, he breathed, “Princess.” Eyes sparkling.

She stepped over him to the bedside. “Which foot?”

“Left.”

She took a pillow from behind him, lifted his foot-

“Ow,” he hissed, wincing one eye closed as he tried to watch her handling his freshly sensitive pain.

She smiled sheepishly. Sorry.”

-and she elevated his foot, setting it down on the pink pillow.

“I’ll get ice!” She announced, but paused at the door. “Do you need anything else?”

“Ah, um.” Struck with a wave of bashfulness, he floundered, almost saying no.  _ She owns a Patisserie! _ his sweet tooth demanded greedily. “Dessert?”

And she was gone.

His head fell back, and he rubbed his forehead, bewildered by her... her... her lack of boundaries. Her kindness, definitely, but  _ boundaries _ . She did not hesitate to bring him in, and leave him unattended on her bed. His cheeks tingled. Marinette’s abundant trust in him, her immediate concern, it touched him. Did all Parisians feel this comfortable with their heroes? He suddenly wanted to stay, and folded himself neatly into her covers, nestling into her welcomed support. He’d never been nursed in a non-sterile environment, and a rumbling purr caught up with him just thinking about it. Forget the pain, this was an oasis in a storm. Literally.

Initially Chat dreaded the injury. Bedside manner nonexistent at home, his father always locked Adrien in his room with a call button to the help if needed. Silence deafening as he suffered the path back to good health.

Chat brought the cover to his nose when he couldn’t bite back a giggle. Who knew it was so easy to garner someone’s undivided attention? He shouldn’t, but he already found the event  _ fun _ .

“I found muffins and a slice of cake,” Marinette offered when she returned. She stopped mid-step up to her loft when she caught sight of him. Bright green eyes peering through a slit in the sheet. How _ did _ he get so tangled in the sheets? And then she hesitated for a reason that should have been obvious earlier. This is Chat. And she realized with a start that she’s  _ Marinette _ . Her natural magnetic ease to her partner finally backfired and he’s in  _ her room _ .

She spread a bag of ice over his ankle then set a plate of sweets atop his lap.

A hand shot out of the covers, and she yanked her hand to her chest. But her body acted faster than her brain, and she swatted his hand before returning it safely to her person.

“Don’t—” She glanced at where Tikki hid, and tugged loose a string of Ladybug to regain her confidence. “Don’t eat carelessly. This is my bed, Tomcat. I don’t want mice nibbling off your careless crumbs.”

“Sorry,” he said, voice soft. “I’ve never eaten in bed before.” He scratched the back of his head, and it took everything she had not to stare, because he’s  _ shy _ .

“No problem. Just eat over the plate.”

Marinette got up before her nerves failed her, and went to sit at her desk. From his vantage point he could see her, one foot tucked underneath herself. She noticed him staring and waved.

She pointed to her neck and tried a smile. “Ring if you need anything.” And she hunched over her desk, scribbling away at homework on her tablet.

He blinked, and grinned when her meaning came to light. Chat tapped experimentally at the bell attached to his suit, and she turned. He noted, with a hint of excitement, that she was amused.

“Yes?”

“Oh.” Somehow that caught him off-guard. “Can I have a glass of water?”

“Didn’t get enough of that earlier?” she teased.

“I could lick myself dry, but alas, my poor aching ankle...”

“Alright.” Marinette’s hands opened, she dropped her tablet pen, surrendering. “Okay.”

He  _ is _ her partner, mask or not, him cripple would dampen any battle.

Pastries gone, Marinette returned to replace the plate with a cup.

He sipped, and that’s when she heard it.

“What’s that?”

He peered up. “Hm?”

“It’s not the rain,” she deduced, almost speaking to herself. “Like a motor, but...” Blue spears locked onto him. His tail curled in response. “It’s you!” Delight danced across her features. “You purr?”

His purr stuttered, yet refused to relent. “If I say no, would you believe me?”

She reached. “Can I?” He nodded with a shrug, and her hand went to his chest. The steady rumble vibrated her fingertips. With a small giggle, she unfolded a story. “When I was little there was a cat who would visit the alley around back. When he purred I loved to hold him.”

“I remind you of an alley cat?”

She tilted her head with a smirk. “Actually, I thought you two were related, you know him? His name was Felix.”


	3. A Medieval Mess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Homework  
> Set in medieval times with Princess Marinette and Sir Noir.

Princess Marinette strew out their images side by side upon her counter. The list had been shortened first by their age, then knowledge, and moral standing.

It didn’t make the choice any easier.

She lifted the furthest left candidates portrait, reading a paper beneath of an excerpt on their person from the perspective of those close to him.

_ Kind, yet distant in the realm of emotion. However, give him a task, and it will be done _ , says a miner regarding the child he apprentices.

She sighed. He’s fine, but... Shaking her head, she braced herself against the wood. Pick one. He has flaws— they all have flaws. If a candidate were to be flicked off the counter for one wrong in a sea of right, they would all be gone.

Picky picky.

“Princess,” Chat Noir stepped lightly to the windowsill.

Chat Noir, a member of The Royal Miraculous Guard, how silly is it that this cat laments not seeing his partners more often, when he sees their team leader out of costume daily?

Marinette turned to sit atop the counter, watching his boots descend noiselessly as he curtsied upon the carpet.

“Such charm, Sir Noir,” she noted wryly, reminding him, “a gentleman bows.”

“And cat’s curtsy,” he tapped a claw thoughtfully to his chin. “The rhyme sounded appealing enough, but...” He shrugged. “At least you’re the only one who saw.”

Yes, head lowered, one leg bent behind the other, and arms spread. A perfect curtsy. A perfect... A corner of her lip tugged up. “Did you... did you practice?”

His cheeks pinkened, flattening ears the only indication of how right she was.

She sniggered into her palm. “You stood - before a full body mirror - curtsying for a rhyme?”

“You were meant to laugh!” He defended. A boisterous guffaw poured into the room. “But not like this!”

He kicked the floor, huffing when she couldn’t stop. “What are the portraits?”

“Ah.” Her joy subsided. “Candidates.” She flicked a crooked smile off the counter. “I’m to pick one.”

He hummed, considering them. “Is there a tournament?” His brow questioned a rather lanky artist. “Doesn’t the choice of a champion to represent us in neighboring lands fall to my partner the Butterfly?”

“It’s a different candidate,” she tip-toed, picking up a bespectacled youth as an excuse to avoid his eyes. “I’m to be wed in May.”

His gaze on the men turned critical. “Wed?” She wondered what he was searching for, then again, what does she seek in these eyes whose worlds have nothing to do with her.

“Royalty, commoners, Father allowed me the limitless choice as if I were any other girl, in hopes that our marriage will be pure.”

His head snapped up. “Commoners?” A thread of disbelief, and yet, what does it mean? “A-anyone?”

She carefully nodded.

“Then why not meet these men in person, as any other girl?” His claws, not so subtly, swept the candidates into a messy pile. Then, “this isn’t all the townsfolk.”

She waved dismissively to the trash, he followed her motion as if led by the nose. “Filtered out those unfit for ruling. Be it by skill, age, or mental stability.” She sighed. “There is law involved, the council will not allow me to choose beyond certain specifications.”

Hand hovering, he backed from the trash pile with a small “oh.” Shoulders falling, Chat took a deep breath.

“Does it bother you?” She cautiously side-stepped to him.

His lack of an answer was one in itself.

“Which? That I must wed, or how I’m choosing?”

“Why must you choose at all? Shouldn’t fate tie lives together?” Again, his failure to answer told her all she needed to know.

“My Mother, the Queen, is wiser than you and I. She tells me,  _ always do your homework on a man before meeting him _ .” She smirked at Chat. “Had I known that before you...”

Faster than she could follow, Chat scooped a portrait from her personal writing desk. “Why is this one separate?”

Marinette tripped in retrieving it from him.

“You told me of him, that as the Sempster would tutor you, his son would often visit. Adrien, was it?”

She hugged the portrait tighter, as if hiding his face would banish the conversation. Why does he care for her opinion of another man? Seasons ago she asked who he was under the mask, and seasons later the question floats between them.

“You seem rather invested,” she noticed. “Tell me, are you among the men lain here?”

Walls in place once more, Chat crossed his arms. “You know I can’t say.”

“You’re sworn to secrecy by the royal family,” she retaliated. “ _ My family _ , just  _ tell me! _ ”

His jaw clenched.

“Very well,” reining in her outburst, Marinette tied on a cloak. “I’ll take my homework on the field.”

He blanched. “Where are you off to?”

“To meet them,” she tilted her head to the counter. “As you said; in person. It will make the decision an easier one.”

His cold heart caught fire. “Now you take my advice? To spite me?”

She slammed the door in response.


	4. Once Upon a Stalk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 - 'Romeo, Romeo...'  
> A continuation of Day 3

“Romeo, Romeo...” Princess Marinette wistfully sang her wish into the clouds, the words a secret whisper meant for own selfish reasons. Stomping her foot, she abruptly shouted, “get down here  **now** , or so help me!”

The rooftop shuddered, yet stubbornly refused.

Growling, she stomped away. The following _ thump _ of his staff hitting wood remained the only indication that Chat Noir was following her.

_ How dare he! _

Nosing through each of her suitors for marriage, offering advice - encouragement even! - on how to handle choosing her future king, like he held no alternative motives!

Sir Noir’s enthusiasm on the subject marked dead center that he was among the candidates.

And if that were the case... why can’t the stupid feline simply reveal his identity!? What’s to hide? Or... more importantly, what’s the point of pursuing someone who refused to be caught?

Steps faltering, she allowed the creeping doubt passage.

How weak is their trust?

Even outside the Miraculous Guard, they maintained a strong relationship. Confiding even the darkest of secrets, yet... why is a simple mask where he draws the line?

To be fair, she hasn’t unveiled her own, but she has no pressing reason to. Lady Bug and Sir Noir are partners. But Princess Marinette and Chat...

Acting fast, she glared at the rooftop, hoping to send him her ire as a way to rid of it.

Yet, no one.

Breathing to cool her nerves she questioned if, maybe, she willed him there. Following close behind in hopes of deterring her from any other suitor, like he was capable of jealousy.

She sharply inhaled, a lump swiftly building in her throat.

Oh no.

Oh, not now.

Then she recognized the jingling of his bell, her hood dropped as she wildly searched. And there he was, leaning far off the roof a home ahead, almost as if in effort to see her.

His cat ears spiked up when they met eyes and all her sorrow evaporated to instant dust.

Marinette plucked a handful of rocks from the trail, and threw, yelling, “stupid! Stalking! Cat!!!”

Gritting his teeth, he ducked.

Thrusting her fists down, she demanded, “if you will not come before me, than leave!!!”

The rooftop pretended not to hear, leaving Marinette to storm off once more.

Very well.

If Chat cannot come willingly, she’ll draw him out, like poison from a wound.

He’s come under the public eye once before for her, drawing up the hood on his own outfit, he guided her out of the crowd for a break from the festivities on her birthday. Allowed her a chance to dance freely in the courtyard to the distant ballroom orchestra. Their laughter echoed freely into the night.

The moonlight dancing across his features, she basked in emotions that suddenly overwhelmed her; for a man who loved happiness, and who loved to share it with her. And any day she imagined after couldn’t be without him.

And now he’s stalking her in lieu of confrontation.

Marinette won’t ask again for his true name, she refuses. If his identity remains a secret, he has no say in how her marriage goes.

A chisel scraping stone reminded Marinette of her destination. Hood carefully in place, she approached. Time to yank the cat by his tail.

Perched on a latter, Theo struck a hammer to chisel to stone. Already, the details of Lady Bug came to life. “My, what wonderful work,” Marinette praised, her voice soft - inviting.

He smiled as he worked. “Thank you. Perfection is my aim for these statues will represent our Miraculous Guards in the town square.” He blew at the dust. “I do hope our heroes find them pleasing.”

“I’m sure they will, you’ve a skilled hand— and a keen eye.” Littered among his work table were several eyewitness sketches of the heroes. “Have you practiced since birth?”

He laughed. “Sadly, no. It’s a skill passed down through the teachings of my uncle.” He placed the hammer aside to give her his full attention. “And have you mastered a skill?”

She curtsied. “Seamstress at your service.”

“Ah,” he waved to the holes in his clothes. “We’re fated enemies.”

She giggled, a false promise falling from her lips, “I should hope the opposite.”

“Ah, what finely sculpted figures,” came the voice of a newcomer.

She smirked.

Finally.

“Glad you agree,” Marinette sing-songed. She turned on her heel. “Ch- a- ah-!” And twisted off-balance, squeaking, “Adrien!?”

He continued to converse with the sculptor. With no hope of doing anything other than staring, Marinette followed her closest instinct to  _ move _ . But only trekked past the next home before he caught up.

“Had I expected to see you, I would have dressed better,” said Adrien, in Gabriel Agrestes latest creation of a vibrant blue tunic, leather belt wrapped around his middle, perfectly fitted for his form. “What brings you from the castle?”

“It- it’s confidential— I mean,” she diverted, “Need I a reason? Ha ha, just thought I’d talk to my people without the barriers of formality.”

He hummed, dubious despite his outward kindness. “Although, your pattern of speech with the sculpture appeared to be that of another nature.” Open smile betraying his curiosity, he added, “there’s word you seek a suitor.”

“Do I?” She facepalmed, then flailed a hand. “I mean, I do. I mean! I might!” She groaned, curling into herself.

He blinked, her animated gestures unexpected. “I see. Perhaps Theo is among your suitors?” Not allowing her an answer, he questioned, “Perhaps I am as well?”

“That- That I cannot confirm...”

She stopped when a familiar red-headed youth passed.

“And him?” Adrien pressed.

Marinette distanced herself. “Adrien...”

“And- and what royalty have you to choose from? Men of a nobler standing than us common folk. Men who have conquered lands further than we have traveled. What have we to offer this kingdom?” He splayed a hand at his chest. “How am I worthy of you?” Eyes widening, he yanked away. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...” But the clouds of his outburst were clearing, he could see it in her eyes.

Suddenly, she searched the rooftops.

Taking her momentary distraction, Adrien turned and fled into the bustle of town life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be continued... in like a few days, I dunno, I'll try something maybe


	5. Tag Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5 - Baton

**Anytime, anywhere** is the challenge Marinette finally issued Chloe. Through an online message board no less.

So when an akumatized Chloe teleported into her bedroom at midnight, her feet hovering over the chaise, Marinette regretted forgoing sleep to join a Ladybug message board, rumored to know her secret identity, yet was really no more than roleplayers. Curiosity thought it would be funny to skip Chat and go straight for her apparently.

Bare feet beating the pavement, Marinette hid in alleys, darted under parked cars, flew into bushes.

“Anywhere, anytime!” Chloe, or Precision, gritted out. Barrelling down sparks from an oversized plug that jumped to life as mice with clocks for eyes. They leapt at Marinette, freezing her when they touched; one second per mouse, and Precision summoned hordes at a time. Marinette had yet to be caught aside from the first surprise.

And then, hidden in a doorway, it went quiet. She knew all of Paris to be awake, huddled in their homes, like how one can’t sleep through a severe weather warning.

Ladybug would be too coincidental, appearing to replace Marinette. So...

Marinette soothed her nerves for some clarity of thought. A rest from the chaos helps. But stopping is a reminder; her feet hurt, her lungs want to wheeze, and the exhaustion...

She shook her head.

_ Think _ .

It’s been this long alone, Ladybug could make an appearance, but how is Chloe targeting her? Would transforming reveal her identity? The very thing she’d been trying to prevent three hours ago?

Sparks rained, flecks of white fighting gold pricked Marinette’s skin like water numbing her body into place.

“What’s that, Marinette?” Chloe blinked prettily, cupping her ear toward Marinette. “You apologize for all the torment you’ve cause me?”

“You froze my body not my mouth,” she reminded. “But as you’re so kind to ask, no. Whatever you deem torment, I wish to do it again in two-fold.”

Chloe lifted Marinette into the sky, letting go when the cars resembled toys, piping out, “oops.”

Well, Marinette reasoned, they were good last words.

Her body collided with another that tsked, “out past curfew, Princess.”

His mere presence alleviated Marinette’s wariness. She smiled. “Hypocrite.”

When their feet met ground she briefed him on the situation.

“And Ladybug?”

Marinette hesitated, staring at her hand. “Not here yet.”

He double-taked. “ _ Not here? _ ” He flipped open his baton. “Reports say the akuma struck almost an hour ago.”

She shrugged. “Beauty rest?”

He scoffed. “She’s gorgeous.” Then bit his lip. “I didn’t say that.”

Marinette rubbed away her blush. “O-of course not.”

Precision poured down an attack.

Chat grabbed Marinette and ran. “Yikes, someone’s taking the game of cat and mouse a little too seriously.” He set her to the side. “Time to put my skills to the test.”

Yet Precision focused all her fight on Marinette. It soon became less about getting the Akuma for Chat, and more about defending Marinette. And Precision sent wave after wave till her power could no longer keep her airborne. And come the upteeth time she barraged them with mice, he faltered.

“Chat!” Marinette yanked him behind a parked car.

He collapsed to one knee, his breaths coming in pants. “I can’t do this. Where’s Ladybug?!”

Marinette shook her head vehemently. “You grounded Precision, plus she’s sluggish. Now you can rush her without worrying she’ll fly.”

He squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t! Without Ladybug, how would I even get the akumatized object?! The Lucky Charm is what pulls us through at the end.” He cupped his side, squeezing one eye shut. “Trust me, this is the end...”

Marinette ducked beside him, knowing they only had seconds. “Chat Noir,” she strained his name into whisper, wanting to convey an emotion she couldn’t form into words. How could she motivate him? Him. Who reveled in challenge. Flirted when he shouldn’t. Never questioned himself. And now when she needs him the most, when he needs  _ her _ .

That’s when it hit her. They need each other. Always have. Despite the lack of a mask, why remain sidelined?

And she smirked. “You’re a cat-astrophe.”

His jaw dropped.

Marinette stole his baton, winking on the words, “I’ll lend you a paw.” And suddenly she was him. Grinning as she deflected Precision’s sparks. Shouting once the electricity fizzled out, “Is that all? I’ll have you down in a flash!”

He watched, mesmerized as she tagged in. Taking the fight in full. Expertly handling a weapon he’d never even seen her touch.

She swaggered up when Precision went down, dropping the akumatized object with a victorious grin. And when she returned his baton, he shoved the metallic object back, not bothering to hide a blush as he met her with sparkling fresh eyes.

“Keep it.”


	6. Oregon Trail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 6 - Game Night

When they discovered their interests coincided, it started as an request right off the cats whiskers.

“Can we... play sometime?”

Marinette agreed with some sort of absent hum.

Their nights started off strong with partner missions into fantasy worlds unknown. Then jumped along to tag teaming one-player games into dungeons until the controller passed hands into castles.

Till their games ran dry, and it devolved into: “I found this western game online.”

It wasn’t exactly fun, but with the company, it didn’t need to be.

Over her shoulder, Marinette asked around the pins in her mouth. “And?”

“I’m thinking a carpenter from Ohio wasn’t my best choice.”

“Or maybe you shouldn’t lead the expedition.”

“Chat Noir is a fine name for a leader.”

“Try Marinette.”

“Hmph.” Chat purposely emphasized his spelling, “M-A-R-I— Bridgette.”

She paused the alterations to her current project. “Chat.”

“What’s that cat you compared me to?”

“Don’t bring Felix into this.”

“Ah, thank you.”

She narrowed her eyes at his in-game creations. Fine. Whatever. He can take that jab at her.

“Now Emma, Louis, and Hugo.”

“What?!”

Then the game prompted, and Chat read, “are these names correct?”

“No!”

He hit yes.

Marinette groaned into her hands a step behind him. “You misspell my name!” She twisted a finger into his shoulder. “Pair me with a cat,  _ and _ steal my future children.”

He nodded mournfully. “I’m one disaster after the next.” Pondering, he added, “almost like... I’m bad luck or something.”

“I hope they die of dysentery.”

Chat shielded the screen. “You stay where you are.”

She rolled her eyes, returning to work.

And then.

“Felix broke his arm.”

“Boohoo.”

“Found fruit.” Clicking filled the silence. “They need water— oh, fort. Should I rest?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Minutes passed. “Why do cowboys ride off into the sunset?”

“They just do.”

“But it makes no sense.” He hung an arm over the back of her chair. “Think about it. The sun is setting. Given an hour after they ride, they’ll have to set up camp. Why leave a perfectly safe town?”

“Their health is poor,” Marinette pointed out the computer.

“Oh.”

“Maybe slow your pace awhile.”

“Okay.”

Returning to his earlier question, she offered, “it’s metaphorical. The cowboy leaves a mystery for hopes to ride on. Here comes this hero breezing through, saving lives. They don’t stop to rest, so the people aren’t disillusioned to the fact that...” Marinette’s shoulders fell minisculely. “Maybe they’re human.”

Chat gasped. Sluggishly returning to her right mind, Marinette's eyes flickered to the screen. “Hugo’s sick with typhoid.”

Marinette rolled Chat aside. “Give me that.”


	7. Second Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 7 - Happy Pawing

So maybe he didn't expect to die. That's okay.

Well.

It wasn't. But then he'd been begging. Desperate for a tether to his body as his current was crumbling with each firm hold.

No longer able to hold, he accepted the fall. A lulling descent into light.

And when he became aware of himself, Adrien had been turned into a kitten. He mewed, indignant by life's thought of a joke.

Given time he accepted these conditions. Life is life and is only as valuable as you make it.

However, in his aging years, snippets of his previous life would jump more frequently into the fray. Like a nagging urge, as if he were meant to complete a task before moving on once again. And that's how his former college became a destination for the day.

Yet he made it part way, giving up when he crossed an old classmate. Because... well... she was  _ old _ .

Stewing on the idea, he actually considered this lucky. Reincarnation could have landed him anywhen, miles away. 

However there she is, at the very least, alive.

Now a scruffy black cat, common as that is, he thought charm would garner her attention. If only this, he asked life, let him interact with the past.

Swaying into view, he tilted his head cutely, vibrant green eyes connecting to a sea of blue.

She chuckled, hands folded behind her back. “Is it any coincidence a black cat such as you approaches and old lady like me?”

His tail flicked.

Creaking and cracking, she knelt down, offering a fish treat.

“These bad habits will get the better of me one day.” When he ate it, she offered another. “Aren't you a cute kitty?” Momentarily lost in her own thoughts, she returned to him with an eagerly whispered question, “would you like to come home with me?”

Not allowing the choice, she scooped him up without protest.

“Another one, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?” her younger neighbor commented as she passed. “They're strays, I keep telling you...”

“I think this one will stay,” she said, unlocking her door. “He’s a gentle soul, like my dear Chaton.”

He smiled with a good humored shake of the head. “Still talking about that first cat of yours.”

Inside she allowed him to hop atop a table. Marinette, he remembered upon glancing at photos along the wall, that was her name. She set water to boil, bringing a bowl for him in the meantime. 

“Now how did a pretty little kitty like you end up on the streets?”

He lapped the water, watching as she poured a cup for herself, adding a teabag and shuffling by.

Sinking into the couch cousins, he joined her, favoring a pillow at her side.

Marinette blew into the cup, holding with both hands as she smiled over the rim.

“I may no longer be Ladybug, but I recognize those eyes.”

Ladybug. Polkadotted memories flickered across his mind. Fleeting, still the feelings remained. He pawed onto her lap, meowing as words failed him.

“There was a time I resented you for that kindness.” She rubbed a thumb over his cheek. Reveling in the feel, he nestled his head into her palm. “Chat Noir, oh I've missed you...”

So this is why he could never sit still on the streets. Searching, and finally he finds his missing piece.

Curling, he purred, content as her hand glided down his fur.


	8. In which Marinette's a male stereotype

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 - Fashion

Chloe's birthday. By the kindness of her heart, and Father's orders, she invites everyone from class. Because - held by the firm belief that the major's daughter was loved by all - her father asked one birthday; where are all your friends? All being her entire class, and Chloe hates it a little more every year.

Marinette appears diligently. Preening under Chloe's welcoming pout.

Having come early to the hotel’s party hall, Marinette asked, “will Adrien be here?”

Chloe scoffed, “his father never accounts for my birthday, always writing poor Adrikins schedule over this.” She stomped to her custom made throne for the day. “It’s not fair.”

That explains why she’s never seen him here.

“And it’s a big shame this year.”

“Why?” Marinette asked around the hors d'oeuvres, already stuffing her mouth full.

“Because Ladybug herself will be here!” On a dreamy sigh, Chloe clasped her hands together. “And Chat Noir,” she added as an afterthought. Then came the threat, “and don’t you dare think of ruining this. Ladybug will be here for  _ me _ .”

Marinette fluttered her eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Marinette sipped punch into the night, watching Nino and Alya twirl on the dance floor. Catching her eye, Alya grinned toothily, giving a small wave. Marinette laughed, waving back. Via Ladyblog, and a reminder that Alya was coming to the party and should help, Chloe sent a message inviting Paris’ heroes to her Birthday Ball.

It’s the one time of the year Marinette can dress formal, and enjoy Chloe’s sour mood. Why spoil it by giving her what she really wants?

“Chat Noir!”

Marinette choked.

Everyone crowded the hero, snapping pics, and asking of Ladybug.

“Sorry, Ladybug’s not coming, but she’s happy for the invitation.”

And the fans dispersed.

Marinette raised a brow, leaning against the snack table, twirling punch in her wine glass.

The cat’s ears flopped down.

Ah,

curse it all.

“Chat Noir?” she asked, a rising pitch of excitement forced into her words.

His ears flicked. “Ah.” He crossed his arms. “Marinette, was it?”

“Impeccable memory.”

“A cat never forgets.”

She offered him punch, he accepted it with a thanks. And that’s when she looked, really looked at his outfit. Over his suit, he wore a white well tailored dress shirt, paired with a black overcoat, and dress pants. The insides looked to be lined with a velvety green. His cuffs resembled his Miraculous, and the bell at his neck had been replaced with a smaller one to center a bow.

Dazed, Marinette wondered if he would soon glitter. “You look amazing,” and the full sincerity in her tone snapped her back. “Uhm,” she blushed.

“Thanks,” Chat accepted, oblivious of her blunder. “I had help, but the little details had to be mine or else it would be obvious who it’s for.”

She blinked. “Really?”

“Yeah, being in my family, you learn a thing or two about clothes.” he fiddled with his tail. “Don’t know if you heard, but Ladybug’s...”

She held up a flat palm. “Nope, totally here for you.” She smiled. “And in place of the sulking birthday girl, I want to say thank you for showing up.”

Chat brightened. “You’re welcome.” He glanced about eagerly. “So, uh, there’s dancing right? What else do people do at parties?”

“You’ve never... parited?”

“I had one,” he defended. “Half? Half of one.”

She hooked his arm and dragged him to the first party game. “We’re fixing this. We’re fixing this right now.”

“ **Who bought me a stupid toaster!?** ” Chloe yelled from across the room.

Chat eyed Marinette curiously as they made an about-face. “Later,” she corrected, “We’re fixing this later.”


	9. And They All Lived Happily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If anyone's wondering where Day 9 went, it's in a separate story called That One Time Chat Noir Became Marinette's Biggest Fan
> 
> Also, this chapter will be the final continuation of Day 4.
> 
> Day 10 - "What if?"

Princess Marinette cast a spell, summoning the spirit of Ladybug to empower her form, and came upon Chat Noir in an old neighboring village. Flooded years ago by an ancient rune, all that marked its remains was a clock tower at the edge. It overshadowed the lake, obediently ringing every hour, unaware it no longer had to do its job.

Chats ear swiveled her way when she touched ground along the clock towers roof.

“Evening, my Lady.”

She bowed her head. “Sir.”

“If it’s not too much.” He spoke toward the lake. “Might I ask for a moment alone?”

“Whatever's the matter?”

“It’s fine, my Lady. Nothing you need concern yourself with.”

She released her transformation. “Is that so?”

The flurry of light catching his eye, he turned, and leapt to his feet. “Your highness!”

“Now, what is it you were saying?”

Still in the jaws of disbelief, he adamantly shook his head. “No, y-you can’t be Ladybug.”

“Enough of that.” She patted dust from her dress, stepping closer. “I wish to discuss earlier.”

“No, I wish to discuss now.”

She frowned.  _ The nerve! _

“Ladybug routinely dashes headlong into danger, she’s our fearless leader. Princess, I cannot in good faith allow you to continue this...” He floundered a hand. “Hazardous behavior!”

“I’ve managed fine till now, thank you.”

“But you  _ can’t _ .” His tail whipped and snapped. “This kingdom needs you!”

She crossed her arms. “And who are you to give a princess orders?”

Chat sneered at the water, and there’s the sore spot.

“My, how your fire dies at the mention.”

“I... apologize for taking out of line, Princess.”

She jerked back. He truly gave in! Marinette stomped. “Shut up!” She grabbed his wrist. “How difficult is it to be my equal?” He pretended to not have heard. She squeezed his wrist tighter. “Please don’t make me choose another.” Throwing a hand out, she demanded, “what’s makes the men of my kingdom any different, that they would make better kings to rule our land?”

He flexed his hand. “And what makes me a better choice than them? There are men of a higher status—”

“Alright!” She growled. “Enough of status! You are worthy, you have always been worthy. Proof of your Miraculous is proof enough. I don’t care what little lies they drilled into your skull growing up, anyone with the proper skills can lead a country.” She softened. “And you won’t be alone. We will be together.”

Finally, he took the proper steps to face her. Helpless under her pleading gaze.

“What if your regret your decision? What if you discover late into our union that another man would lead better?”

She shook her head, pigtails swaying. “That matters not, I can choose no one else.”

“Why?”

“I love  _ you _ .”

He stiffened into place, dropping her hand. Feeling the emptiness between her fingers, she relented. “If ruling scares you so much... I’ll have you know, no one else will be the same in my heart. The council will make a decision if I cannot. By noon tomorrow we’ll—”

In the blink of an eye, he swooped down and stole a small kiss. Silencing her with a smile.

“You love me?” He pecked her forehead. “I’ve never been afraid of ruling.” He kissed her nose. “I’ve been afraid of ruining my relationship with you.” A kiss to the eyebrow and she blissfully smiled. “A year ago you spoke of budding emotions with a handsome blond. He visited the castle with your teachers.” Chat cupped her shoulders when she swayed. “Whatever happened to him?”

“Him?” She asked airily. “Adrien?” Blinking back to herself, she snapped, “that was  _ you _ , you idiot.”


	10. Designated Driver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 - Age-up Marinette

This isn't so bad. He just... won't get up.

Having reverted, Marinette fussed over her unconscious partner.

He fainted.

The Akuma had multiplied again, but instead of creating an army, possessed their latest victim with a hoard of butterflies. And when she broke the object, they erupted from the victim’s mouth like a scene sliced out of horror itself.

And Chat Noir fainted.

Scooping him up, she carried him to her car parked not far off from where this commotion began, and drove them home.

Tikki tutted, “and your secret identity?”

“You want me to let him rest this off on the street? That was traumatizing.” She shivered, leaning over her steering wheel at a red light. “Even for me.”

Throwing a sun hat over his head, and a blue jacket over his shoulders, Marinette carried Chat Noir to her apartment. Smiling sheepishly at the curious eyes of passersbys, and offering, “rough night.”

Marinette struggled the door open, landing him on the couch with an ‘oof.’ Satisfied, she lifted the hat, and tossed the jacket over him as a makeshift blanket.

Then reheated dinner.

Munching on a pile of spaghetti, she watched Chat Noir stir into consciousness.

“Wakey, wakey.”

“Ladybug?” Chat asked shakily, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Where are we?” He grabbed the armrest when they met eyes. “Marinette?” He checked his gloved hand before examining the room. A new environment added to his earlier fright?

She swallowed a mouthful. “Don’t tell me we know one another, Chaton.” In her calmest voice, she soothed him from another panic. “You fainted. That last Akuma scared us both...” His breathing calmed slightly. “You alright?”

“I- I will be.” He glanced side-long at her. “You’re... Ladybug?”

“Crazy right?” Then it hit her. “We know each other?”

“Yeah, I...” A solemn business woman, he often compared her to Nathalie. A work persona preferred by his father. The only time they spoke is when he modeled her clothes afterschool. And... and here she is. Slouching over a messy plate of food, hair loose, and in pajama pants no less. His cheeks puffed, and a sudden chuckle broke from his lips.

“What?” She asked, indignant. “How is this funny?”

A humorous glint in his eye, he told her, “we know each other from work.”

Her face paled. “Oh no.” Wielding her fork threateningly, she demanded, “tell no one.”


	11. Be My Guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 - Sleepovers

She invaded the stronghold. This little girl with a black on red spotted cape. Chat Blanc, an officer of Hawkmoth’s army, is suppose to alert the main defenses to any intruder.

But anywho...

“How did you get in?” Chat voiced from the rafters.

She drew a metal wire tight from a reel, sneering at the shadows. “Reveal yourself!”

“Why now?” He glided soundlessly across the room. “I've watched you from the moment you arrived. You’re careful, spying at every corner, but I hide above.”

The metal wire whined as she yanked more free. “S-so, right back at’cha. Why reveal yourself now?”

He dropped to the ground, casually shrugging, tail dancing in time with his mood. “Bored, I guess.”

She’d flattened her back to the wall when he came, now instead choosing to keep a brave step forward. “Well, stalking can only entertain for so long.”

“Stalking in my own home?” He wrinkled his nose. “Nah. Just bored of watching you sleeping in the dungeon.” He made a grand gesture to the mossy stone walls. “You sleep here, explore, and return. Why lie here, of all places?”

She frowned at the cell bars. “No one accounts for the imprisoned. What’s one extra body among the damned?”

Chat’s mood sullied. “Don’t call yourself that, I was rooting for you, you know.”

Her head jerked back. “Who’s side are you on?” Holding her head high, she announced, “but since I have been caught, I will bare no shame. My name is Marinette, a vigilante of sorts.”

He perked. “Nice to meet you. I’m Chat Blanc, not a vigilante, but more neutral. It’s a petty quarrel, don’t you agree?”

“Petty?” She growled, shoulders hunching. “The outside refuses to acknowledge Hawkmoths growing warriors!” She suddenly shouted. Stretching her whip, she took a wide stance. “The war is coming. I will be a martyr if that’s what brings it to light.”

He eased back, drawing his hands up between them. “You’re determined.”

“I must be.”

“Very well.” He went to the window and jumped to the edge. “If it will help alleviate this... foolhardiness you’re nurturing, care to see my quarters?”

She sat, resolute, on the stone bed. “Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t.” He agreed, mock defeat in his sigh. “But I  _ could _ turn you in, and then where would you be?”

She glanced at the unlocked cell door. “Nowhere near a key...” Reluctantly, she took his hand. They climbed a few stories, and entered the window to a fully furnished bedroom.

Still wary, she remained at the window as he ran by, making a flying leap at a queen sized bed.

“One touch of this cotton and you’ll spoil any bed you try to sleep on for the next hundred years!”

Tentatively, she reached, running her fingers over the fabric. And bolstered by his encouraging pat, she sat at the edge- and sank in.

Squeaking in surprise, she fell back, earning a laugh from the cat. He’d already leapt into the rafters, staring down at her.

Eyes wide, Marinette broke into a smile, revelling in the extraordinary comfort. Her very first smile since he’d lain eyes on her— and it was directed at him. The picture turned him slack, his every waking effort became trying to sear her personal brand of joy into memory.

“Go on, rest up!” His tail flicked in excitement. “Come tomorrow, you must explore the kitchen. The chiefs pastries are exquisite!”

“And you?” Marinette sat up. “Where will you rest?”

“Ah.” Chat shook his head, tugging at his white tail. “I don’t rest anymore. I blame the color.” He leapt to the next rafter. “Come morning, I’ll have found something for you to try. A sneak peek of all the edibles to come.” His smile widened. “Sweet dreams!”

Taken aback, she flicked her fingers for a small farewell. “Night.”


	12. Digital

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 14 - Age-Up Chat Noir
> 
> Day 13 is posted as a separate story: The Indirect Approach.
> 
> Set in a computerized world.

Filthy spammers! Chat Noir sneered into the darkness of the catacombs. How’d they even get the jump on him!? That’s it, he turned to pacing, that is the last time he rides the cable car. But how bold! They bugged him right in the dataspace, dumping him here like trash.

Electric zaps flung off his shoulders, bouncing at the ground before sizzling out.

He’ll trace them down by the bugs coding, slip past their backdoor, and send  _ them _ to the catacombs.

A sniffle diverted his thoughts, cutting off his electrical flow. He’s not alone?

Sitting against a junk file was a small program, curled, head tucked behind her knees, and shaking with sobs. As he stepped closer he noticed her black hair, fashioned into pigtails, and an outfit of pink capris and a white shirt.

“Hello?” He greeted.

She leaned away from her knees, yet didn’t look up, “hello...”

“What brings you here?”

“Fell through the cracks. I’m no longer supported.”

“You?” He glanced her over. “Yeah right. You’re fairly new. Only outdated programs lose support.”

She did look up then. “Or fragmentations.”

Square chips out of her left cheek revealed coding beneath, zeros and ones forming and disintegrating in tandem.

“Oh, that’s not so bad.” He dismissively waved a hand. “Pair with an interface. Then you’ll run smoothly.”

“Easier said than done...”

“Ah, picky?”

She exhaled.

“Tell you what, how about we link up, and I’ll defrag you.”

“You’re an interface?” A moment later, she turned away. “Linking leads to pairing. I don’t know you.”

“Currently, my username is Chat Noir, at your service.” He bowed. “And yes it does, but pairing is permanent and requires permission on both ends. Linking however is temporary and will take us to the Processing Department for evaluation. Or do you have another terminal to exit the catacombs?”

She opened her mouth, shut it, and murmured, “Marinette.” Getting to get feet, a frown marred her face. “I wish I’d been born an interface.”

“Not gonna lie. I’ve been around for many light cycles, but you programs? Come and go from the system with each update. You find your way to the webs yet?”

She shook her head.

“It's my favorite place to escape.” He grabbed her hand, initiating the link. “Try going before you’re booted.”

She gasped, defragmented in a millisecond. Feeling refreshed and protected even partially by his firewalls.

Then they began transferring, file by file sent away to Processing.

He waved. “See you on the other side.”


	13. Merci

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 16 - Flowers
> 
> Day 15 is a bit of fanart posted to my tumblr: ihavereadandagreetothetermsofuse

_ In the park, under a moonlit sky _ ; those were her words exactly. So Chat Noir came as requested, finding Marinette sitting at the fountains edge. Hands to her lap, arms straight, and legs crossed at the ankles, she whispered to herself. Frantically. At times throwing an arm up and laughing to an imaginary recipient.

He sat beside her and she sprang to her feet. “Chat!”

He blinked owlishly. “Marinette.”

“Cat’s are quiet,” she noted to herself, and chuckled nervously. “Of course he’s quiet.”

“Should I come back?”

“No!” She flung up both arms. Tucking a hair behind her ear, Marinette crossed her arms with a failing smile. “W-why not stay awhile? The stars are  _ great _ .”

They looked up, a black sky whose stars were blotted by their fair City of Lights™.

She’s not okay. Jittery like a victim of blackmail. But no one could force Marinette to—

“Is Alya blackmailing you?”

“Alya can’t blackmail me.”

A skeptical brow rose.

“That was one time and a toaster! Besides, no one was hurt.”

“Chloe would disagree.”

Marinette huffed. “She doesn’t count.” Then she turned her shoe in the dirt. “So, about yesterday.”

“That’s technically today,” he added.

“Yeah, weird time bubbles.” Her eyes unfocused. “Nino thought it was cool.”

They chuckled.

“Since Paris isn’t going to remember what you did for them, here.” Marinette handed him a beautiful bouquet of greens and blacks. Except the center was a button, and the petals a stiff fabric.

“Did you make this?” he asked, captivated.

“Yeah.” She blushed, wrung her hands, and told him, “yesterday you were so handso— brave! On behalf of all of Paris, I’d like to say thank you.”

When Chat smiled Marinette could swear her heart was going to make a leap for him.

“Thank you,” he breathed, then halted, “I mean, you’re welcome?”

She muffled a laugh then took a step back, waving. “Goodnight.”

He returned her farewell with a small wave. “Night.” As her footsteps receded, Chat softly caressed a petal, noticing a gold shimmer beneath as he did. He upturned the bouquet, and lining each petal was a phrase:

_ I knew you could do it. _

_ I’m so proud. _

_ You’re the cat’s meow. _

And what started off as a chuckle, built to a full blown laugh, till he was clearing tears from his eyes.


	14. Either Or

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 19 - Identity Reveal
> 
> Day 18 was posted in Snips & Snails & Kitty Cat Tails

To begin; she should never have disclosed her age.

Alya had her laughing, she wasn’t sure when, something about how she has to be  _ some hubby’s _ bedbug who’s not afraid to  _ bite _ . And Ladybug laughed,  _ no way, I’m 14! _

Tom and Sabine watched the interview with creased brows.

And that kicked off the spark.

“She’s Marinette’s age... If I were her mother I’d never let her out of my sight.” Sabine wrapped an arm around Marinette, and she tensed.

Said proverbial spark lit the fuse that burned eagerly to its destination.

Tom rested his hand over Sabine’s. “I can’t believe she’s a child, risking her life— and who’s letting her do this?” Marinette locked her eyes onto their joined hands at her shoulder. “Irresponsible!”

“But you have to admit, she knows what she’s doing,” Marinette meekly defended. 

“I suppose... but for her to have that type of responsibility while she’s still developing?” Sabline met Marinette’s eye. “It’s already hard enough at your age, could you imagine all of Paris on your shoulders?”

With a tight lipped smile, Marinette shook her head.

A day later her parents dragged her downstairs to watch an akuma attack via the news while Chat Noir, sans Ladybug, ‘handled it’.

Three days later they began noticing her distinct talent to disappear every attack, and panicked, “where were you!?” Listing all the atrocities their latest akuma could have brought down upon her when she should have been safely inside.

A week, and she was scarcely ever out of their sight.

Chat Noir dragged along the newsreel. Suddenly having a Miraculous was a job. With each new akuma she watched the news a little closer, spied escapes a little faster, except her excuses were failing. Ladybug’s fleeting appearances and Marinette’s slip-away's did not go beyond their notice.

It was all a matter of not addressing that elephant upstairs.

And her Chaton prowling the nights like a bat signal only urged her decision along.

Skipping beside shadows in the streets, she kept an eye to the sky. Any mention of some kid rooftop watching, spotting Ladybug and she's never getting free. But a girl wandering past midnight? Maybe like three people would care, none of them here.

Vaulting over the top of a near skyscraper, there! She cupped hands around her lips. “Chat Noir!”

And somehow he heard her. Head whipping down, expression so open before recognition set in.

He's boots clapped the pavement. “Marinette?” He glanced over her head. “Isn't it... late?”

“Yeah- well-” shaking her hands under the reins of stage fright, she hoped a little circle.  _ Say it _ . It's what she prepared for, what Tikki approved she do.

And then imagination painted a pretty alternate. Life under lock and key. Paris scraping by, waiting for her to simply appear, if only to finish Chat’s job. And her parents, more paranoid by the second.

Eye clenched shut, she dove in. “I need you to date me.”

He, understandably, checked for fever. 

“I get you have a life-” he cupped her cheek. “But I need some type of excuse as to why I’m not home-” clamped a hand around the back of her neck. “My best friend can’t be it because she chases akuma herself-” he scratched his chin. “And all of my other friends won’t lie for me anymore without a reason.”

“Not a fever,” he murmured to himself.

“I’ve had a boyfriend before, and the amount of personal space was a godsend. It only has to be pretend.”

“Listen.” He turned her around, and pushed forward. “I’m sure there’s a good reason.”

“Right.”

“But I can’t entertain you right now.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m looking for Ladybug.” He wistfully gazed at the sky. “She shows up maybe a second before she has to go, something’s up.”

“Yeah,” Marinette sassed under her breath. “She’s becoming rapunzel.”

“What?”

“So,” she changed the subject. “If I give you Ladybug, will you fake date me?”

“Well... sure.”

“Okay,” she held up Tikki, who lazily waved a moment before zipping back into her bag for a nap. “Now, I need you to show up to my home at noon.”

Face slack, he could only stare.

“Chaton?”

He pointed at her nose. “You’re?”

“Yes.”

“And your parents?”

She sighed, “yeah.”

“B-but you?”

“ _ Words _ .”

He shook himself. “Okay.” He ran a hand through his hair. “You... you’re Ladybug, we- we’re going to skip some  _ very important steps _ , and get right onto dating?”

“Fake, but yes.” She cupped her throat. “They think I’m Ladybug, I just need to... show them I’m not. You don’t have to... but it would mean a lot to me.”

“So I show up, out of costume, and pretend you’re my girlfriend?”

“Yes. Also, try and wear something... odd.”

Blinking rapidly, he gave a jerky nod. “Okay”

She clicked her phone on for the time. “Annnd I have to go!” Leaning her weight back, she tripped, turned around, and jogged.

He met her pace close behind.

“What if some guy shows up before I do, and you mistake him for me, tell everyone you two are together, then I show up and ruin everything!?”

“How would that happen!?”

“I dunno! I’ve seen it happen before!”

“Where!?”

He fell silent. “...romcoms”

“What the hell do you think this is? -don’t answer that. You know where I live. Show up anything but early, I have an idea.”

* * *

 

The next day, cooking up some brunch, Marinette smiled. Her parents sat around the table, awaiting her  _ surprise _ .

“Okay.” Marinette drooped her shoulders. Nervousness she didn’t have to fake, but caution was hard to feign under all her building excitement. In an hour she’d be free of all suspicion! “I’ve been holding off, but I think you should know.”

“Know what?” Sabine asked as Tom took her hand.

“I... have a boyfriend.”

They hit the back of their chairs. “You do?”

“Yeah, he’s a bit of a rebel, so I wasn’t sure you’d approve.” She chuckled. “We’ve been meeting up during akuma attacks so no one would notice but...”

Sabine crossed her arms. “Can we meet this boyfriend?”

“Of course!”

The doorbell rang.

“Hold on.”

Marinette dashed to the door, and flung it open with a wide smile. “Hi!”

“Hi!” Adrien reflected her brimming energy.

She slammed it.

Then cracked it opened again.

With a small smile Adrien held up his kwami, who cackled behind his paws.

“Is that your rebel boyfriend?” Sabine called from a room over.

“Rebel?” Adrien questioned. “Is that why you asked me to dress odd?”

His idea of  _ odd _ was wearing a t-shirt that didn’t match his shoes.

Marinette bumped her head into the doorframe. “I’m doomed.”


	15. Someone Needs to do it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 21 - Akumatized Marinette
> 
> Day 20 is Negative Nine Lives

“It’s a little petty.”

“It is justified.”

“Marinette,” Chat addressed.

“Warden,” she corrected.

“Whatever.” He rolled his eyes. “You literally became akumatized, threw Chloe into the Seine, then continued life as normal.”

Warden held up a sketch, adding details, mildly interested in his presence. “Is she still there?”

“Trapped in a boat that’s slowly sinking with five pounds of lead and no one can do a thing but watch because of the three metal cages? Yes.”

A shrieking cry could be heard in the distance.

“I really don’t see what the problem is.”

Sirens set off, a plume of fire and smoke bellowed above buildings, and replacing the shriek; an explosion.

“...Marinette.”

“ _ Warden _ .”


	16. That Back-alley Vibe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 22 - Rooftop Kisses
> 
> In which Adrien's Chat persona has a catitude

“Fuck, this isn't the library,” Marinette flung a hand to the clear blue sky.

Chat Noir waited for her to leave.

When footsteps crackled against the gravel however, he had half a mind to tell her off.

“Didn't catch the rooftop access sign on your way out, Princess?”

“Nice to see you too.”

As the band Miraculous’ second leading vocal, Chat Noir received less attention than Ladybug. A solitude he enjoyed. Ladybug’s groupies, or groupie, never took a hint. The band made a pact to wear masks, secrecy was a given.

She tapped his nose. “If you wanted to get away unnoticed, why not remove the mask on break?”

He batted her hand away. “This mug would get noticed, trust me.”

She rolled the words on her tongue, unable to identify the taste. “Is that honesty or conceit?”

The man under the mask is either an eyesore or eyecandy.

No answer. Hand cupped over his mouth, the flick of a lighter, and there hung a cigarette between his lips. Devoid of smoke, with glittering ash, she raised a brow.

“Why even pretend?”

“Didn’t think you’d see through it so fast. Most people hate smoke.”

“And in public?”

His shoulders bobbed. “Tabloids can’t tell it’s fake. My Father knows who I am, so it pisses him off.”

“You rebel you.”

He smirked. Pinching and rolling the gag cigarette between his fingers. “It is a statement. I refuse to be his trained show cat, vise-versa, it’s not like I’ll disregard my morals to prove a point.”

She took the cigarette, considering it. “Thought no one knew your identity. Even family.”

“Things happen, Princess.” He held out a hand for the cigarette. “I’ve got ten till they call us back in, you gonna steal all my fresh air or what?”

Marinette held the cigarette to her lips, inhaling like it had anything to offer.

“H-hey!” He pursued as she retreated a step back. “You can’t do that!”

“Can’t is the wrong word.” She muttered around the paper. “It's done.”

“It was in my mouth.”

“So?”

He raised both brows incredulously. “That’s an indirect kiss!”

Their so called rebel of the band, quite genuinely concerned, about spit swap. And when he didn’t ease up or blow it off, she  _ laughed _ . Playground shenanigans all over again, therein lay the irresistible urge to tease.

Although he did clam up, face a regretful pink.

She flicked it his way; pouting rather petulantly, he caught it.


	17. IOU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 24 - "I owe you one..."

“I owe you one.”

“No,” Marinette asserted. “You owe me five.”

“Wha-” Chat crossed his arms. “How?”

Strewn on the table were little rips of paper, all reading I.O.U. She counted them out loud, then cocked her head back. “Your gluttonous Kwami ends up here when you’re god knows where.”

“His names Plagg. And he does not. He’s many things, but absent from my side isn’t—”

Sliding the notes aside, Marinette revealed five photos, all differing timestamps, all of Plagg dozing in her kitchen fridge.

“...”

“...”

“I don’t own this cat. Never seen him in my life. No idea where this is coming from. I came to return a favor, and you attack me?”

“Shut up, this is Plagg, I even have a recording of his saying:” And she played a video of Plagg rolling over, saying, ‘ _ yes, it is I _ .’

“Yeah, well, I had a cat.”

“And?”

“Disowned him maybe three seconds ago.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day 23 will be posted in The Indirect Approach, this is just me not waiting around to post the rest


	18. Goddess and Demon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 25 - Akumatized Chat Noir  
> Set in the Feudal Era  
> Marinette's a priestess in training, and Chat Noir's a demon.

Marinette nocked an arrow. Bowstring creaking behind her overdraw.

Her pinpoint precision enough to slay demons in one shot. Straight through the neck or right through the heart. Luck of their dear ladybug goddess in every fire.

But that’s while under her blessing.

In their small village of Pari, Marinette parades under the guise of Ladybug as their protector. One visit to the shrine on the outskirts of their land, and the presiding goddess blesses her, bestowing for an extending amount of time the power to protect.

But this demon appeared with no warning.

No time to pray for blessing.

And the demon snarled.

Marinette aimed sharply at him in warning. “Name yourself, demon!”

He flexed his fists. “Chat Blanc.” Baring his fangs, he scoffed at her quivering bow. “Let me through.”

“Why?”

Shooting out, his claws sunk into a tree, blackness spread from his touch, enveloping the tree, rotting it to the roots. And what looked to be centuries of age and decay remained.

Villagers at her back, wielding pitchforks, torches, and the like, retreated a step. It did not go unnoticed.

“This demon is not our first,” Marinette reminded their nervous eyes.

One man took a tighter grip of his sword. “Yes, without Ladybug, it is.”

She clenched her jaw.

“Demon!” She addressed instead. “Chat Blanc! Your power is that of misfortune. Allowing you to pass will endanger our shrine of luck. Attempt to pass and I swear blood will spill.”

Tail twisting and whipping about, he slapped a hand to his face, and there glew the outline of a butterfly.

All pointed their weapons at the ready.

“He’s possessed!” they cried.

Marinette let down her draw, eyebrows creasing when the demon pushed into himself. Fangs baring not at them, but at the one holding his strings.

“Lady Marinette?”

“Return to your homes,” she ordered, not taking her eyes from his struggle.

“But my lady-”

“Go!”

Not to be told twice in fear of what they would otherwise face, they scattered.

Chat Blanc writhed before her. His eyes wide and unseeing between clenched fingers. “Tikki,” she pled, knowing her words would never reach. “Goddess of luck, lend me strength.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pssh, Inuyasha? Never heard of it.


	19. Robin Hood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 26 - The Stray

A black hoodie patterned in splotches of green pawprints. That night is all Marinette saw slumped in the alley, as she only toed close enough to check his breathing. Rhythmic. Clear. Drunk or homeless, she couldn’t decide, couldn’t bring herself to care. Sleeping in an alley is punishment in and of itself in this world.

That night she wrapped up a bag of leftover bread, and dropped it by his side.

The next day under routine military check, a new customer stepped inside.

“I’ll be with you momentarily,” she addressed.

Face shadowed under a familiar hood, he held up a hand;  _ take your time. _

Signing out the appropriate documentation of her income, she stood aside as the military raided the tills. Each dollar she earned, every cent they pocketed, never ceased to hurt.

“Lord Hawkmoth sends his thanks.” The uniformed men flicked off a two finger salute in parting.

Marinette tightly smiled, visibly shaking till their car took off. Stepping up to the counter, she tied on an apron. “What can I get you?”

Finger hovering over the selections, he noted, “most businesses shut down.”

She flinched.

“Why would a little bakery defy what fortune five-hundred companies have given into?”

A question that doesn’t deserve an answer. To work under Hawkmoth’s title, or pay a tax to use the land and keep the name her parents chose?

In the silence, he pointed.

“Two chocolate croissants.”

His goodies bagged, and paid, she took a moment to breathe.

“Alright there?”

Marinette nodded.

Taking an extra second, he withdrew a bill from his wallet, slipping it into the tip jar. “They don’t count tips as income.”

Taken aback, she clasped a hand over her chest. “Th-thank you!”

He nodded, and around a mouthful, reminisced, “a couple owned this bakery. Your parents, I’m assuming?”

Her heart pounded. “You remember them?”

“Yeah.” Turning the croissant, he admitted, “hard to forget when you meet someone who would love to fatten all of Paris.”

Marinette bubbled with a laugh. “Pastries are love-”

And his hint of a smile. “-everyone should be full of it.”

Working past the lump in her throat, Marinette smiled. “Thank you. Really. It’s nice to be reminded sometimes. What’s your name?”

“Call me Chat Noir.” He laughed through his nose. “What’s another black cat in Paris?”

She leaned over the counter. “Surely your parents chose a better name than that.”

Chat packed away the rest of his snack into the crinkling sack, and stuffed it into his jacket pocket. “Not all parents can be as sweet as pastry chefs.”

“I’m... sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah.” He gazed out the window. “Everyone is.”


	20. Fairies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 27 - Baking

She kind of... fell into his life.

Well, over the wall and onto his bush but-

“Are you dead?” He asked this bundle of a pink and white dress in messy pigtails. About his age, he’d guess; five-ish, six-ish.

She rolled off the greenery and groaned.

“Okay, that’s good.”

Bright blue specks of the sky blinked up at him and he almost couldn’t breath. Because-

“You’re pretty.”

A little head tilt, and it had to be said, “you’re a cat.”

“Chat.” Sweeping a hand back, he flicked his belt of a tail, and readjusted his mask. “Chat Noir.”

“I’m Marinette.” Wiggling in place, there came a wince. “I hurt.”

“I have bandages.”

Marinette sat up and smoothed her dress. “Okay.”

She followed into his room and sat on the bed inside.

Peeling a bandage open, he applied it to the bridge of her nose.

“Is that better?”

Her nose scrunched. “I think so...”

He plopped onto the bed beside her. “Why’d you climb my wall?”

“That wall leads to a fairy prince!”

His eyes gleamed. “Does it?”

She nodded. “I saw last time, but then I had to go.” Her stomach growled. “Now I’m hungry.” Her heels clicked against the tile before she marched off. “Kitchen!”

Chat followed, already stuck like glue to the newcomer. All he’d known his whole life was Chloe. Abrasive, demanding, sit-around and have her way Chloe. But Marinette explored, an independence that allowed her to be brave. She fell from a wall! Chloe wanted a hospital when he brushed her hair the wrong way.

Dress fluttering, Marinette climbed countertops. Pulling out bowls and pans. She clicked a few buttons on the oven, then raided the fridge. Asking, “you want cookies?”

He gasped. “Only all the time!”

Passing the bowl him, she tossed in ingredients. Butter? Like for toast? Eggs... omelets? “Mix those.”

He did so awkwardly in a bowl bigger than his arms as she sprayed a pan. Not paying him any attention, he worried that this was going wrong. What is he even mixing?

Eying his creation, she smiled and nodded. “Great!” Then tossed in chocolate chips. “Mix that too.”

Great? Seeing the mixture in a new found light, he felt a bubble of pride. Stirring now with success high on the mind.

And when that was done, they grabbed handfuls of cookie dough, methodically placing glops on a pan. It didn’t feel like they were making cookies, but by the air of confidence surrounding her, he wouldn’t question it.

In the oven it went. “And while we wait, we clean,” she told him, setting a timer.

At that point he wanted to rest, but away she ran, scrubbing counters, sweeping floors.

He came across a small flour pile, and slapped a paper towel to it, accidentally scattered it into a cloud.

“Kitty no!” she waved her arms at the remainder like it would reform its pile. With a huff her shoulders fell. Then... she slapped it.

He sputtered, backing from the flour dust. “Marinette!”

She laughed, and slowly, he joined her.

“It went-” he spread his arms. “-poof!”

She nodded between a laugh. “Big poof!”

When they calmed enough, he realized they were still cleaning. “You make clean-up fun.”

She clapped her hands clean. “It’s fun because I have a friend! Mommy and Daddy make me do it by myself. It’s boring.” The timer dinged. “Ready!” She pulled the cookies out and set them on a pan with criss-cross bars.

Marvelling at them, he declared. “You’re magic!”

She fiddled with her pigtail. “It’s just cookies.”

“But you made them so fast! And- and- from all that stuff, you made cookies!” Cupping his mouth, he quietly breathed, “you’re the fairy princess!”

Cheeks a rosy pink, Marinette poked a cookie. “I don’t know about fairy princess...”

“You are!” He insisted.

“Here, try one first!” She shoved it his way.

Although tempted, he pulled back. “Hold on.” And he left. Returning with a polaroid camera. “It’s my first time making cookies. Maman says I should remember every first.”

Marinette smiled, holding up a cookie as the flash went off. Then stuffed it in her mouth.

“Hey wait for me!”

Stacking them onto a plate, they carried the cookies to his room.

“I can stuff two in my mouth!” Marinette bragged as she did so.

“Marinette, these are special,” he reminded her, carefully holding one cookie with two hands and nibbling. Suddenly he squirmed. “So yummy!”


	21. Minor Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 28 - Kiss it Better

There’s a crater.

A bowing bite out of the earth where Françoise Dupont once stood. Where Marinette wished him luck, and he told her to hide. To stay safe.

Oblivious to Ladybug’s struggle, Chat toed the crumbling edge.

No building to search- wreckage to overturn. Nothing.

No outlet for his mounting desperation.

And he could feel it, gnawing, clawing, desperate for an acceptable explanation. Even though he knew the answer. It just... Wouldn't process. Refused to.

_ No. _

It wound tighter.

He tried reasoning. Maybe she returned home.

Left for the danger. Escaped. Somehow.

And how? His mind supplied. Why would she have left when it was safe. You told her to stay. She  _ trusted _ you.

He rounded on this akuma, snarling, and pursued. Clawing, never letting up, he could actually smell the fear off of his retreat. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Ladybug demanded he calm down.

When the akumatized object was in a million pieces, then he let up. Instead rushing her Miraculous Ladybug.

“Hurry!” The only word in Chat’s vocabulary.

When the building restored, Chat wasted no time scouring its halls.

“Marinette!” he called. “Marinette!!!”

She wanted to be mad. He disregarded half the fight, then went in blindly for the rest. But his distress was scaring her. Taking a second to drop her transformation, Marinette followed his voice, steadily rising in volume and repetition.

Then decided she’d never catch up. “Chat Noir?!” She cautiously returned.

The calling stopped.

And he dropped before her.

She yelped, falling back.

“Sorry!” He bent to his knees. “Y-you’re alright? All accounted for?”

“Well,” she checked her hands, now slightly pink from breaking her fall. “As much as I’ll ever be,” she joked.

He didn’t laugh. Instead grabbing her palms and placing a kiss.

Her eyebrows skyrocketed. Cheeks a confused red.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured between her fingers. “I’m so sorry. You almost- I’m sorry.”

His hands quivered. “Chaton,” she tenderly addressed. If anything, her kindness broke him further.

Lunging forward, he embraced her, reassuring himself that she’s here. She’s Safe.


	22. Fishy Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 29 - The Argument

“Hypothetically.”

“No.”

“ _ Hypothetically, _ ” Marinette repeated. “Let’s say I jumped after the necklace.”

“You wouldn’t make it.” Chat Noir determined. Starting off the rocky cliff edge that ended with seemingly gentle waves near the bottom. “With my catfish attributes, I might be fine.”

She gave him a flat stare. “But you refuse to retrieve it on principal.”

He threw out both arms, lifting his shoulders as he did. “It’s a material object! You humans pollute my sea daily! There’s flyers about it, you expect me to leap off this frankly dangerous edge for one measly thing. No.”

“And yet you refuse to let me go.”

“One.” He raised a brow. “You’re human.” 

“You let humans drown all the time!”

“Like I’m suppose to save every human with a lung full of sea water! There’s a lot of you!”

“Then what difference do I make?”

“...”

“...”

“Listen.”

“You tried that one already.”

“Okay,” he breathed, walking a circle. “So, let’s say you do go after it. The shore’s quite aways from here. You’ll either be exhausted by the time you return, or...” He returned to an empty spot. “Oh, for the love of—”


	23. In or Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 30 - Scratch

_ Scritch, scritch, scritch _ .

“You going to let him in?”

“No.”

“Why?”

Laid up in bed for the night, Marinette shut her book. “You know perfectly why, Tikki.”

_ Scritch, scritch, scritch _ .

“Maaaarineeeettte,” Tikki sprawled dramatically. “I can’t sleep through that, pleeeaaaasse.”

She sighed. “Fine.” Getting up, Marinette opened her trap door, sweeping an arm as her welcome for Chat Noir to drop inside.

Lips pursed through sheer indifference, he turned and stepped away. “You took too long again.”

“See!” She accused. Tikki rolled her eyes as she turned over, and Marinette fell into bed, quick to get comfy this time.

Every time.

Every.

Frikken.

Time.

_ Scritch, scritch, scritch _ .

Marinette lifted her phone, typing madly.

“What are you doing?” Tikki almost sobbed. “Make him stoooop.”

“No.”

“Whhhhhy?”

“Siri,” she voiced into the phone. “Where’s the nearest cat cemetery?”

“Twenty-three minutes from your current location.”

A lengthy pause.

Marinette flicked off the lights.

Sighed contentedly into her pillow.

And

**_Scritchscritchscritchscritchscrit—_ **

“ _ fuck. _ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you ever have a cat that does the thing and just


	24. A Ladybug by Any Other Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 31 - Copy Cat
> 
> Didn't plan to post this here, but it turned out to be a lengthy story I don't have time for at the mo. As of yet, it is a WIP chapter of an upcoming fic.

Chat cracked open the double-doors, dim florescent flickers illuminated a sea of faces inside.

Outwardly they could all be mistaken for Ladybug. Similar hair color, fashioned into a fringe and pigtail combo. Slender, pale skin, bluebell gaze... But fire, even in the eyes of the brave guarding others, were dying embers in comparison to the spotted hero he knew.

“Chat Noir!” Tears, cheers, and hugs spread around the room.

Despite Tikki promising an abandoned factory only dust visited is where Ladybug would be, Chat couldn’t quite fathom the amount of people crammed into this one room. Every one of these women... successfully kidnapped? In the span of three weeks?

“Quick,” Tikki hissed in his ear. “Before the kidnapper comes back!”

Chat snapped back to it. “Right.” While surveying the crowd, Tikki impatiently yanked his ear.

“Chat Noir!”

“But where’s Ladybug!?” He cupped his hands into a circle, shouting, “Ladybug!”

The women murmured around the room, shooting odd glances his way.

“You Sillyface, why would she answer you!” Though the insult was anything but, her admonishing tone got an apology out of him.

“Alright, let’s get everyone out first,” he admitted sheepishly. Then more boldly for the crowd, “there’s an exit nearby. Let’s move to safety.”

A few steps in, no one followed.

“The door wasn’t locked,” one told him, rubbing her upper arm.

“It’s these.” And a number a women lifted their pant legs. Revealing a metal anklet strapped tightly to each, blinking an ominous red. “They’ll zap us if we stray too far.”

He knelt down, turning it slightly. “Can we break it off? Disarm it?”

“It will shock us if we do,” a girl confessed, head bowed.

Chat itched the side of his head, hearing Tikki’s contemplative hmm. If he cataclysmed it, there would only be one shot. One he’d rather save for Ladybug. “Is...” he shrugged. “Is the shock really so bad?”

“Ask her.” One woman jerked a thumb over her shoulder, bringing two others to part and reveal-

“Marinette!” Chat rushed forward, dropping to where she lay, and tapped her cheek. “Wake up!”

“Chat Noir knows her,” one whispered. Oh, he realized, something that wouldn’t look good for the kidnapper...

Suddenly she groaned, then flinched. “Ow.” Marinette reached for her ankle.

It looked awful.

Red angry flesh shined back, dotted in specks of dried blood.

“Chat?” Then the crowd came into focus. “Whoa.” She rubbed her eyes. “Am I crazy or is the world full of me?”

He quirked a smile. “Maybe conceited. Look around again.”

Slight alterations, facial features, and body differences didn’t help her feel better.

“Please tell me this isn’t some weird remake of Orphan Black.”

“Hopefully not that dark,” he gently lifted her leg. “Can you stand?”

Putting pressure on her foot went over bad. She cried out, curling, cringing, and biting her lip.

Rubbing her back consolingly, he called around, “can anyone carry her?”

An older woman with a gentle smile approached. “I can. I’m a daycare worker, although, I can’t say I know much about burns...”

“That’s alright.” Marinette gritted out. “We’ll take care of it when we’re out of here.”

“Well, not yet.” Chat cut between the two. “I’ll find out how she’s controlling these anklets, then on my say, we’ll go.”

“Okay,” Marinette leaned back. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t help in the meantime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow. I suddenly feel kinda sorta lost.
> 
> So... votes? What of my WIPs should I update first? Or should I do updates based on comments/kudos like all them other hip kids?
> 
> Or procrastinate till death as I've been doing, dunno, I've got a record going at this point so


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